Sea Scoundrel (4 page)

“But you have a male passenger, do you not?”

“We do not.”

“I saw him board this morning.”

“Only sailors have boarded, other than you and your girls.”

“He was no sailor. He was a gentleman.” Patience heard her insult, tried to repair it. “That is to say, he was a man of

—”

The Captain’s scowl dared her to continue.

“I ... didn’t think he was a sailor.”

“I sincerely wish you were correct,” the Captain said in disgust.

“We are women, Captain, not cattle. We are perfectly capable of providing diverting dinner conversation, should you wish it.”

He scoffed. “Yes four children arguing over a man they never met, who wouldn’t want them under any condition, must prove incredibly stimulating dinner companions. The Marquess of Andover, indeed. Save your diverse topics, Lady Patience, I’l eat with my men.” He looked about the cabin. “Now, I trust you understand the living arrangements?”

Patience itched to slap the smirk from his face. “Perfectly.”

“Good. Three of you wil share one cabin, two the other.

We’l string hammocks. You can put them away during the day to al ow for adequate living space.”

“Why didn’t you tel me that in the first place?”

“You hardly al owed me the opportunity before you stormed

—”

“Enough,” Patience said. “Angel, you and your puppy wil share the other cabin with Grace. Rose, Sophie and I wil share this one. Rose you may take the bunk.” The Captain’s eloquent eyebrow rose. “Taking a hammock, Lady Patience. My, my. I am impressed.” Patience smiled, refusing to be baited further.

The Captain coughed, nonplused. “I’l leave you to your arrangements, then. Someone wil be down to hang the hammocks later. Good day.” He stepped into the companionway and shut the door behind him with an authoritative click.

Sophie stamped her foot. “He cal ed us children.” Grace frowned. “And he said the Marquess wouldn’t want any of us. That wasn’t very nice.”

Angel tossed her chestnut curls. “The Marquess wil certainly want one of us.” And which of them Angel thought he’d want, they al knew.

A crash caught their attention, then a sharp yipping.

“Wel ington!” Angel screamed.

An eerie screech split the air. “Pittypat!” Grace choked.

Together they crossed the hal and Angel threw open the opposite cabin door. Under a chair ran a gray kitten fol owed by a barking Wel ington. Between their skirts to the companionway, then up the ladder and through the hatch the noisy duo scrambled.

The girls fol owed to the main deck, Angel and Grace cal ing frantical y.

The kitten changed directions, unexpectedly, and ran up the rigging. When Wel ington attempted the quick turn, he slipped on the spray-slick deck, puppy legs flat out, and slid through a hawsehole into the ocean.

Angel leaned over the rail screaming.

The Captain came running. “What’s wrong?”

“Wel ington has fal en into the sea,” Sophie cried.

At the Captain’s murderous look, Patience stepped back.

He named his her fault with his angry eyes. “The puppy, Captain! He’l drown or be eaten for bait. Do something!” Patience wailed.

He took Angel by the shoulders and thrust her at Patience.

“Keep her the hel away from the rail before she goes over, too.” He scanned the murky depths. “Blast and damnation!” The captain shucked his shirt and jumped.

A sailor not too far distant jumped at the same time.

Patience consoled Angel and turned to Grace who was trying to coax down her frightened feline. “A kitten, Grace?” The girl had the sense to look contrite.

Time seemed suspended.

Final y, the sailor who’d jumped at the same time as the Captain climbed back aboard and gave Angel the pup.

She took her shivering pet and began to stammer. The sailor shook his head and left. Angel cuddled the bedraggled pup while she watched the man as if he were the most interesting sight ever.

Patience sighed. She was going to have to watch them very closely.

She and the girls were wrapping Wel ington when a heavy silence fel .

Patience looked to where al eyes centered. There, standing on the rail, black hair slick, bronze chest gleaming in the sun, one hand clenching a backstay rope, was a drenched, hard-breathing, furious Captain.

His jump from rail to deck moved his men to action. They returned to work so fast you’d think God had spoken. But he had eyes only for her. A tic worked in his cheek. As he clamped an icy hand around her arm and propel ed her toward the hatch, he was the picture of Aunt Harriette’s description of Satan.

And he’d come to take her to hel .

Sitting her roughly down on a hard, wooden chair, the Captain slammed his cabin door. With his back to her, he took a cloth and wiped the moisture from his hair, his wide shoulders and the back of his neck. He turned and stared at her, eyes cold, as he wiped his chest. She couldn’t decide what was more mesmerizing, his eyes or his naked chest.

“Captain, your chest is naked!”

“Because I jumped into the bloody cold ocean to save a dog. A dog, Lady Patience. With al those foolish women screaming like banshees, it’s a bloody damn wonder my whole bloody crew didn’t jump in the—”

“Bloody damn ocean.”

His eyes narrowed. “Did no-one ever tel you, my Lady, that you have the vocabulary of a guttersnipe?” It certainly wasn’t the first time she’d heard that. “Perhaps, Captain, it’s because I was a guttersnipe.”

“Then the title is as false as the promises you made?”

“Not so. Both are genuine. I wil help my girls find titled husbands, and I am, indeed, Lady Patience Kendal .” Some experiences in life, however, cannot be helped, she thought.

The Captain shivered. “Wel , then, Lady Patience had better watch her mouth, or no titled gentleman wil so much as glance at her or her girls.”

Patience repeated a despised phrase. “You have an unfortunate tendency to the vulgar, Patience, and you must repent.” She smiled at the confusion on her abductor’s face. “That, Captain, was my Aunt Harriette speaking. The two of you would get along very wel . I don’t like her, either.”

“Be that as it may, we are losing sight of the problems you and your girls have already caused. I’d like to set down some rules. First—”

“Captain, I didn’t know about the kitten.”

“Kitten? I have a bloody cat for a passenger?”

“Dear, quiet Grace sneaked it aboard in a basket.

“Quite appropriate,” the Captain said. “Hel in a hand basket.”

“Captain, if I must watch my language, you should—” He shot forward to bend over her, and clamp a hand on either arm of her chair.

Caged.

The spicy scent of him carried a salty freshness. His wet hair dripped on her bodice. Each drop seemed to be hot rather than the ice his skin proclaimed it to be. His wide chest, matted with dark, curling hair, was close enough to lay her cheek against. She examined it, then his hard mouth, then his intimidating, midnight blue eyes.

Looking back down, away from those eyes, she faced his chest again and found herself wondering if the hair was soft or coarse and how it would feel against her cheek.

“My dear Lady Patience. I believe I must—” Patience stood, knocking her chair to the floor. “Captain, please.” But he gave no quarter and she was forced against him, the backs of her knees touching the overturned chair. As she sought to keep her balance, her hand came to rest in the soft, silky tangle about which she had been speculating. She nearly snatched it back at the heat she encountered, but she could not.

The Captain steadied her, bringing her closer, pinning her in place, al of her against al of him. Again. “Captain, your pants.”

“Yes?”

“They’re wet.”

“I could take them off.”

Heated spirals purled through Patience at the bold suggestion. She could no longer deny herself, and moved her fingers the tiniest bit, just to test the texture of the strands beneath them. “They’re getting
me
a little wet,” she said, trembling within, now that she knew how silky that hair real y was, wondering if he would remove ... anything.

The Captain stepped back.

Disappointed, Patience lowered her hand.

“That’s nothing compared to what I want to do to you.” Patience lost track of their conversation. “What?”

“I want to pick you up and carry you off....” Her knees turned to jel y.

“And throw you into the ocean. So you would be more than a
little
wet.”

Now she remembered. She looked away from his angry eyes. “You said Angel could take the pup.”

“You argued in favor of it, Lady Patience. I merely capitulated. Those girls are your responsibility, not mine.”

“When I saw how insincere Angel was about caring for the pup, I tried to tel you, but you wouldn’t listen.”

“You always misunderstand—”

“Always? How can you say that? We have only known each other one day. One day, Captain. Less than twenty-four hours.”

He seemed shaken by her statement, an endearing look of confusion softening his features. “It seems as if we’ve known each other—”

“I know.”

He ran his hands through his hair, sprinkling her in the process.

She didn’t flinch, even when a droplet trailed down her neck and slid between her breasts, even when the Captain watched it and cleared his throat as it disappeared.

Silence fil ed the moment.

He cleared his throat again. “If you’l excuse me, I do need to change,” he said, unbuttoning his pants. “I’m neglecting my duties.”

Patience couldn’t look away from those three open buttons or the curling hair that arrowed into intriguing darkness.

His hands stopped at the fourth button.

Rooted, she looked into his questioning face.

He raised a brow.

Patience turned and fled as if the devil nipped at her heels.

The Captain’s sharp, deep laughter fol owed her into the cool evening air.

Hours later, after Sophie drifted to sleep, and Rose’s weeping calmed, Patience could stil hear the humiliating sound. As she sought comfort in her hammock, her afternoon’s foolishness made her worry about her girls.

They needed someone smarter, worldlier, and better able to deal with men.

She sighed, knowing there was nothing for it. They had her, only her, and she couldn’t fail them.

She wouldn’t. She’d find them husbands with titles and no bad habits. Were there such men?

Look at the Captain. She expected he had lots of bad habits. Which didn’t matter, because he despised her. And she had lusted after him. She had. She real y had. And he knew it. At least she thought it was lust. How was she to know? It was something like, because she’d been very interested in ... everything.

She wasn’t even sure why she was so curious. She had never seen a naked man—except Reggie Hamilton from the neighboring house. When they were eight, they’d disobeyed and gone swimming and she saw his little ...

thing. Why in heaven’s name had she stood there just staring at where the Captain’s little thing was?

Patience groaned, mortified once again, and pul ed the blanket over her head.

For hours, she squirmed and shifted, uncomfortable in the spider-web of netting she must use as a bed for the next month or more.

When sleep final y came, it infused her with the most improper dreams. Perspiring, uneasy, she twisted to get away from the dark-eyed, bare-chested Captain, with his warm, seeking hands grazing her ankle, higher, and as she gasped and turned to run, she found herself on the floor.

Three times she fel to the cabin floor that night.

The next morning, stiff and bruised, Patience walked the deck, her gait slow. When she heard the bel for breakfast, she went to her cabin where a young sailor had come to set a table earlier. And there the Captain sat, charming the ribbons off her girls.

Now how could she stay away from him, if he was always here? He gave her his pirate’s smile. “Good morning, Lady Patience, I wondered where you’d got to this morning. Doc has made a fine lobscouse for us to share.”

“Who is Doc?” Grace asked.

Patience lowered herself careful y into a chair.

“Doc is the cook, who also happens to do the doctoring.” Sophie patted her shoulder. “Then perhaps he should take a look at Patience. She fel out of that contraption at least five times last night.”

“Three,” Patience snapped. “I only fel three blasted times.” She placed her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands. Humiliated again.

Then she heard a familiar chuckle and her gaze rose with her need to exterminate the beast where he sat. He was wise enough to close his mouth, but she noted the amusement in those crinkle lines about his eyes.

Rose stepped into the breach. “What in heaven’s name is lobscouse?”

“Breakfast,” the Captain said.

Sophie shuddered. “It sounds like an affliction you don’t want to catch.”

The women al groaned.

The Captain laughed. “It’s ‘cracker hash.’ Hard-tack soaked in water until it softens, mixed with salt beef, pork and sliced onions. Doc bakes it until it forms a crisp top.

That, a strong cup of coffee sweetened with sorghum, and a hearty, sea breakfast you’ve had.”

“I’m impressed you know the ingredients,” Patience said.

“I cooked for a few weeks, once, the time Doc broke his leg in a storm. I burned everything. Almost had a mutiny. It’s made me appreciate him.”

Everyone laughed, except her. She was stil angry over his amusement at her fal ing from the hammock.

“We don’t cook during bad weather,” he said. “You’l get hard-tack dry and be glad of it. And if you’re lucky, there’l be left-over cold coffee for drinking.” Just then, a grizzled, smiling Doc brought in the lobscouse and roast pork, fil ing the room with the aroma of spice and onion. The young helper carried steaming coffee. Everyone dug into the fare with enthusiasm, pronouncing it delicious.

Captain St. Benedict leaned close as the girls discussed ways to enhance the dish. “Patience,” he whispered.

She leaned forward, pleased he wished to confide in her.

Perhaps they could make peace, after al .